


Subtlety

by SeraphHT



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Prompt Fill, semi-public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphHT/pseuds/SeraphHT
Summary: It starts with teasing and escalates. The lucky recipient has to act like nothing's happening. It's not so easy when you're in a room of special operatives. (A fill for the kmeme)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had this sitting incomplete in my laptop for quite some time, and though it's not as detailed/cheeky as I'd like it to be, I'm satisfied that I finished it :)
> 
> Enjoy :D

Merrick sat and nodded at his fellow teammates, and when his eyes met Keegan’s, he couldn’t help but smirk. Keegan lifted an eyebrow in reply, but the other didn’t miss the hint of a smile on those lips, their exchange of glances flirtatious as usual.

Rorke rose. “Alright, boys, get comfortable so we could get started,” he said, turning round to start the briefing. Everybody was quiet, concentrated on Rorke, their planning and possible improvisation had to be perfect, as usual. High-risk, enemy positions, timing. In a few minutes, Merrick’s mind raced with possible strategies.

Suffice to say, he was surprised at the slither along his thigh.

The covers of the table were quite long and obstructed a proper view, but judging from which knee the warmth was resting on, he knew the hand belonged to Keegan. The sniper was facing away, eyes on Rorke, but his fingers slowly and deliberately drummed on his skin.

Merrick slid his own hand under the covers and put it over Keegan’s, giving a gentle squeeze. For a brief moment they glanced at each other and swapped smiles, signs of affection. Their attention returned to Rorke, and he took his hand back to write a few notes on his memo.

It was three minutes later when Merrick nearly jumped at movements riding upwards on his leg. The material of his pants rubbed against his skin, coarse and slow, and with each passing second they journeyed closer to his groin.

More curious than alarmed, he looked at the sniper again. And again, the sniper was focused on their leader, face stoic and eyes contemplated. At this point, slow circles burned themselves on his skin, and heat was pooling at the bottom of his spine at a worryingly rapid rate.

Leaning slightly towards Keegan, he whispered, “What are you doing?”

Keegan looked at him for only a second, then dismissed with a quiet, “Ssh.”

Merrick stared in bewilderment, for the other’s face held no hint of mischief or intent, but with the way his fingers wrote against the skin of his thigh, he could tell that it was otherwise. “Are you—“

“This is important, Merrick,” Rorke said abruptly, and the mentioned Ghost sat upright, flustered.

“Yes, sir,” he nodded firmly, then jumped at the squeeze between his legs. Elias and Ajax turned to look at him, eyebrows raised and curious and he swore he heard Keegan chuckling quietly to himself.

“Is there a problem?” Rorke asked, voice holding traces of suspicion.

“No, sir, no problem,” Merrick said hastily, settling and leaning into his seat, nodding slightly for their leader to continue. It took some seconds before Rorke was convinced to do so, redirecting their attention to the board once again.

The pressure had turned into long strokes against his pants, and with the growing arousal eliciting pain due to limitation of cloth, Merrick glanced to his side, unsure whether to be annoyed or not at the gleeful look in Keegan’s eyes. “I suggest we can find another time to do this,” he muttered, looking at the board without paying attention.

“Where’s the fun in that?” came Keegan’s gravelly voice, dropping nearly half an octave.

Merrick would be lying if he said that voice didn’t contribute to the twitching of a very specific muscle of his, one which the other noticed (because he was holding it for goodness’ sake), especially coupled with heat conducting from the calloused hand.  

And he could tell Keegan was utilizing this excitement, with fingers dipped between his thighs, as low as possible to drum his fingertips against the base, slowly dragging them upwards. The electric shocks his body perceived as nerve impulses sent out-of-place instructions for other parts of his body to jump and coil, and it took nearly all of his strength to keep still as to not attract any unwanted attention.

The pain in his pants was becoming too much for him to handle, the arousal building and pushing against the restraints. Merrick’s breathing was long and deep, not that it did anything to calm him, not when a hand enfolded against the outline of what it could, strokes languid and slow as though tentative, but he knew that given the situation they were in, Keegan was way past hesitant.

“Mind opening those legs a little?” the younger Ghost whispered again, and they glanced at each other from the corner of their eyes. One’s face was flushed—the other’s smug.

“I’m going to kill you,” Merrick would have seethed, but it came out instead as a weak mumble as his legs spread further (contrary to his intentions of preventing Keegan the satisfaction), providing ample space for the intruder to fish for his zipper.

“Promises, promises…” one edge of Keegan’s lips curved upwards into a smirk; that bastard.

Then a warmth wrapped around the base of his shaft, the weight heavy, hot and firm in a way that was resolved, so much pleasant that Merrick had to bite his hand to prevent a sound tearing from his mouth. It travelled upwards, a circle of heat and electric with just the right amount of roughness about the palm, the pure sensation drowning his entire body in fire as it reached the tip and rubbed back down.

Merrick felt a bead of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he laced his fingers together, on his brows were concentration of preventing this pleasure from affecting his limbs. To hold his breath steady was already a torture in itself, and with the added task of controlling facial expression, he pressed his interlaced fingers against his mouth, muffling a potentially loud exhale.

“And then we’ll—Merrick?” Rorke stopped as soon as he looked across the room. An eyebrow climbed towards his hairline. “You look sick. Are you alright?”

Elias and Ajax once again glanced in their direction, and just for show, Keegan did too. All pairs of eyes watched the man in question, whose face was tinted pink with a kind of embarrassment that the sniper knew very well what it was.

“Sick?” Merrick repeated. “No, sir, not at—not at all.” He blinked, hoping the waver of his voice as a thumb swiped over the tip went unnoticed by his fellow Ghosts.

“Right,” Rorke drawled, and nobody could blame him for his doubt. “Well, this’ll be over soon.” With that he returned to the meeting.

Merrick bit his bottom lip, glancing at Elias and Ajax who hadn’t said a word, but weren’t as wary as Rorke was. If they turned to the side it would be easy for them to see Keegan’s arm move aggressively, his strokes becoming obvious and faster and harder and only then would they realize the cause of Merrick’s agitation. The fact they would be so easily caught was as alarming as it was arousing.

Never was there a single inelegant touch; each rub brought him closer and closer to the peak, and Merrick put a hand over his eyes, the darkness coaxing him to focus on the sensations instead as Rorke’s voice became a soft noise in the background. They became much more intense, now that he had obstructed his vision, and Merrick could hear his pulse racing in his ears, as Keegan finally brought him over the edge.

All that escaped his lips was a light whimper.

Moments later saw Keegan taking a cloth and blindly wiping along Merrick’s shirt and legs as subtly as he could whereas Rorke turned to the table. “So, any questions?” the leader inquired to the team, though his eyes laid suspiciously on Merrick, whose blush had faded and now seemed relaxed and content, which he would never suspect was the glory of post-orgasm.

Elias answered no for all of them, and they were dismissed. As everyone stood to leave, with the exception of Merrick, he grabbed Keegan’s arm.

The sniper looked down, suppressing a smirk by the looks of his trembling lips. “Hm?”

“I won’t make it easy for you the next time you’re sniping a target.”

In response, Keegan arched a brow, allowing the satisfied smile to play across his face. “I’ll be the judge of that,” was his amused reply and he exited the room.

Merrick tucked himself back into his pants and glanced at the board, the intricate circles and arrows and layout making no sense to him whatsoever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and do leave kudos <3


End file.
